


Something Different

by Canon_Is_Relative



Category: Star Trek: Reboot
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:42:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2190399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thinking he's lost everything has a way of making Jim act on impulses he's been repressing for, oh, the past three years and nine months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Different

**Author's Note:**

>  Warnings for: Unrequited love, heartbreak, abrupt ending because I was depressing myself. Enjoy!  
> [Originally posted in 2009](http://canon-is-relative.dreamwidth.org/7871.html)

He couldn't have told you what made this barely-survived away mission different from any of the dozens of other barely-survived away missions. It was an away mission; they'd survived it. Barely. Maybe it was because for a couple of hours Jim hadn't wanted to survive it. Had thought _Ok, yeah. I could go out like this._ And had hated himself for that thought.

_Your ship has been destroyed. There were no survivors. Surrender to us, Captain._

Uhura had told him it was a lie. Her words, _The Universal Translator's not picking it up but I know my tonal languages, Captain. He's lying about the Enterprise_ , had been too perfect to trust. So he hadn't trusted them. Had acted as though he and Uhura and Spock and Ensigns Lionel and Stayes were alone on the planet's surface. The Captain led his little five-person commando team into the heart of the Malfeasian's compound and executed, all-too-literally, their objective. And then, in the reeking aftermath of their victory, the _Captain_ had surrendered to the  _Man_ and in a fit of rage he had turned the compound's weapon systems in on themselves, sending the bunkers, the weapons caches, the communications tower, up in clouds of smoke.

The communications tower.

"-lling away team, Captain Kirk come in, please. This is _Enterprise_ calling away team, Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, Lieutenant Uhura, please respond."

Kirk hadn't moved. Hadn't reached for his communicator. Had stood, blinking up into the sky, eyes watering as his gaze tried to pierce the acrid smoke.

"Enterprise, come in. Sulu this is Uhura, lock in and beam us up."

Sulu hadn't asked questions, and three and a half seconds later the world dissolved around them in a hum of static and a shower of sparks.

***

Bones met them in the transporter room.

"Jim!" he barked, sprinting forward when the away team materialized on the pad. While Nurse Chapel and the others hurried forward to see to Uhura, Spock, Lionel and Stayes, McCoy let his captain wrap an arm around his shoulders and press his face into the doctor's neck, for just a moment, as he ran his scanner over Jim's body. Looking up, McCoy grinned gratitude and relief into Jim's face, shaking his head in disbelief. "Forty-three goddamn hours," he said gruffly, shaking Jim gently, "two days we can't find you and now you waltz in here with hardly a scratch on you. You son of a bitch."

"Get a room, gentlemen," Uhura chided softly, resting a palm on each man's shoulder, exhaustion and appreciation laid bare in every syllable.

McCoy snorted a laugh, stepping a little away from the captain. "I've got a room. For all of you. Sickbay, now."

"But, Bones, I--" Jim started to protest, his first words since beaming aboard.

"If you say one word about the bridge I will hypo you so fast--"

"Ok, ok," Jim raised his hands to stop the tirade and realized he was grinning. "Just let me talk to Sulu. _Some_ one's gotta tell me what's going on with my ship."

"You can talk to Sulu from sickbay. We're all fine, I can tell you that much. No damage, no casualties. Now come."

***

All things considered, he was still the captain and he could have insisted Bones let him go back to his quarters. He'd made that insistence on Spock's behalf, and Uhura's. But, all things considered, the thought of sleeping alone in his quarters was about as appealing as the thought of beaming back down to that planet.

He lay on his side, face pillowed on his arm, and watched Bones make his rounds in the dim light of ship's night.

He couldn't have told you what was different about this away mission. He could guess, though. He could speculate with the best of them. In his experience, in his grand total of nine months as captain aboard the _Enterprise_ , when things went wrong, which they frequently did, it was he who was in the line of fire. It was he who did the _leaving-behind,_ in the obituary sense of the word. He'd never been left, before. Not like this. Never felt his heart stop beating; sympathy pain for the hearts that had stopped beating miles above him.

All right. _Heart._ Singular. Singular in the _Jesus Christ you're the only one I've ever let get anywhere close to me and it scares the living shit out of me to think about going on living without you_ sense of the word. Singular in the  _You're the one single constant in my life that I don't think I could ever replace_ sense of the word. Bones made a final note on his PADD, nodded to himself, and stepped towards Jim's bed. Jim's heart beat quicker in joyful accompaniment with the heart that was still beating in Bones's chest.

"If you're having trouble sleeping I could give you a sedative," Bones stopped beside Jim's bed, looking down at him.

Jim rolled onto his back and folded his hands under his head, peering up through the gloom in silence. Bones frowned and reached for him, pressing two gentle fingers against the pulse point in his neck, brushing a hand over his forehead to feel for fever. The cool touch made Jim draw in a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering shut. Bones had, literally at his fingertips, the most expensive and impressive equipment the Federation could boast of, and yet he preferred to place his trust in the callused skin of those same fingertips; in the ingrained instincts of a surgeon born.

Bones frowned, leaning down to look at him. Jim felt his breath ghost across his face from behind closed eyelids. "Are you all right?"

Jim nodded, raising a hand to clasp the fingers that still rested against his temple. He let out a long breath, soaking up the feeling of Bones's skin against his, before he opened his eyes and sat up. He didn't release Bones.

"What are you doing?" Bones's voice was gruff, clipped. He didn't pull his hand out of Jim's but he took a quick step back, tilting his head to look warily at him.

Jim's fingers tightened around Bones's. He swung his legs off the bed and stood, his muscles taut and humming with a kind of reckless energy, his blood pumping _yes, yes, yes_ through his veins as he brought his free hand up to settle against the back of Bones's neck and pull their faces together.

"Jim--" it was a choked sound of protest, a harsh syllable cut off when Bones got an arm between them, braced a hand against Jim's chest to hold them apart. " _Jim_ ," he hissed, darting a look around the sleeping medbay before reaching up and jerking the curtains closed around the abandoned biobed. " _What the hell are you doing?_ "

Jim's lips parted on a breathless gasp. His hand fell from its place on McCoy's neck and reached back to steady himself against the bed.

"Hey," McCoy caught his elbow, helped him sit then grabbed his tricorder, frowning into the glowing display. Jim watched him, watched the green and amber lights cast his friend's face into sharp relief. "You're fine," McCoy said shortly, snapping his tricorder shut, setting it aside and folding his arms to scrutinize Kirk from a half-step farther away than he usually stood. "You're fine. You're acting of your own volition. Which means you've got some explaining to do."

Jim leaned back, palms flat against the biobed, and gazed up at Bones.

 _He'd been so sure._ Three years at the Academy, the aftermath of the Nero incident, and now nine months aboard his ship.

Three years of frantic scrambling after grades and honors and achievements with little time for anyone or anything else but always time for each other. Falling asleep in Bones's bed waiting for the doctor to get back from his shift at the hospital, waking up to find him stretched out on his own couch or, once, in bed beside him. Three years of not having to say anything because everything seemed so clear. _I'm not ready. You're not ready. We don't have time for this today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next year. Not now, but not_ never _. Not the way you look at me. Not the way I love you._

The first night they'd all been released, a week after getting back to Earth, after questioning and cross-questioning and endless rounds of repeating details and justifying decisions and defending himself and his crew, when they'd all met up at the Dane to laugh and cry and collapse into each others arms, drawing strength from the presence of others who'd _been there too._ And if the Captain and the Doctor had left together, had spent the night curled around each other letting guilt and regret and _if-only-I'd_ s tumble from between whiskey-loosened lips, no one had commented.

And now, nine months of depending on Bones for everything from his meal plan to his sanity. What were they if not the sum of these moments; the encounters in the mess and the late-night discussions about ethics and command responsibilities and the Prime Directive, the reassuring grins directed from the transporter pad and the grudging twist of the lips from behind a tricorder every time they came home safe again? What the hell were these moments leading up to, if not this?

Not this.

Jim leaned back, palms flat against the biobed, and gazed up at Bones. He worked the muscles in his face that curled his lips upward, lifting them off his teeth to form an expression he hoped Bones would accept. He shrugged, his left shoulder still sore and protesting the movement. "Nothin'," he said, and shrugged again, welcoming the dull whine of his muscles. "Sorry. Just…" he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Space is getting to me, I guess. Not too many people up here, once you factor out everyone who's off-limits under fraternization protocol. And with the almost-dying and everything today…" He shut his mouth, hoping Bones's bullshit detectors were on standby for the moment.

Bones's jaw tightened and he was quiet for a moment, glaring down at Jim. At last he unfolded his arms and pointed a finger into Jim's chest. "You may be my captain, _captain_ , but you're still the dumb kid from Iowa I met on the shuttle four years ago. You really piss me off, Jim. Have since the day I met you. But it's fine," he spread his arms, let them drop with twin dull smacks against his thighs. "It's stupid shit I can overlook. But I _never_ thought you'd pull _this_ shit with me. I am _not_ gonna be your little space-fuck-toy and I'm _not_ gonna listen to your whining about how there's no one up here with the authority to get your rocks off. You try this again and I'm gone." He fell silent, held Jim's eyes for another agonizing moment before turning away, pulling back the curtain and growling, "Now get out of my medbay. You're fine, go sleep in your quarters."

  



End file.
